A Delicate Predicament
by Luvvycat
Summary: Six weeks after saying their final good-byes on the Black Pearl, Elizabeth and Jack meet again in Tortuga… SPARRABETH! Rated "T" for romance, mushiness and some suggestiveness, but no real smut. Stand-alone, not part of any of my previous story cycles.
1. Chapter 1

**A Delicate Predicament  
**by Luvvycat

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_**Author's Note:** This is a two-part story I wrote recently for Cersia5 as part of the Merry Pirates Holiday Fiction Exchange on LiveJournal. Set Post-AWE; previous canonical events intact. This story is a stand-alone, and is not related to my "Rum and Persuasion" story cycle. _

_**Please note:** I had a hard time determining what accent Anamaria uses (if any!) in CotBP, despite replaying her scenes multiple times. Sadly, she has so few lines! Some of her words in the recruitment scene are clipped, as though there is an accent at play, and in the scene where Gibbs et al are following the Code and leaving Jack behind, it does sound like she says "Hoist de sails!" For the sake of this story, I opted to give her a slight Islands/Jamaican accent (though not as pronounced as Tia Dalma's, and with much better use of English.) I hope this is acceptable!_

_This fic was beta'd by the charming and delightful GeekMama, with my most sincere gratitude! She indeed was very thorough, and this story has been much improved due to her input! Any residual flaws or errors are entirely my own, and in no way reflect on the excellence of her beta skills!_

_Naturally, the usual disclaimers apply. All rights to PotC belong to Disney. No harm or profit is intended on the part of the author._

_Take care, and enjoy ..._

_-- Cat  
_**  
_Summary: _**_Six weeks after saying their final good-byes on the_ Black Pearl_, Elizabeth and Jack meet again in Tortuga…_

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**Part One**

He had never expected to see her again, once they said their final good-byes on the _Pearl _(had it only been six weeks ago?). She had gone off to consummate her marriage to her new (and now—largely thanks to Jack—_immortal_) husband, and Jack had hightailed it to Tortuga, to drown his sorrows the only way he knew how: with massive quantities of rum, and an abundance of warm female flesh…

But he should have known better. Like the proverbial bad penny, she had a tendency to turn up, usually when he least expected it…

Like the last time they had been reunited in Tortuga, on the moonlit docks, she dressed most charmingly as a boy…

_"I'm here to find the man I love…"_

Like that day in the Locker, when he turned at the sound of her voice, to see the author of his destruction standing there, beautifully wind-swept, sea-soaked, and sun-burnt …

_"Jack, this is real… we're here…"_

Like now, when Captain Elizabeth Swann Turner, Pirate King, came breezing into the Faithful Bride, and back into his life …

Oddly, he sensed her before he saw her … felt a slight change in the air, as one often did with the onset of an approaching storm … or a harbinger of impending doom. A strange electricity dancing along his skin, raising gooseflesh, shivering down his spine like the brush of cool fingers.

Then, the cadence of a familiar voice, a low, higher-pitched murmur that his ear somehow was able to distinguish from the rest of the din and ambient noise of the crowded tavern, as a marked man can sometimes hear the almost soundless whisper of a blade being drawn in the dark, alerting him to danger …

His body and his heart recognised her, responded to her, an instant before his mind put the pieces together …

His stomach clenched, fluttering as though Calypso's infernal skittering crabs had taken up residence therein …

_Oh, bloody buggering hell …!_

* * * * *

He had returned to Tortuga a fortnight ago … having come to his senses, and the belated realisation that he'd never chase Barbossa down in a tiny, leaky dinghy, nor could any port he might hope to reach in said dinghy be as pleasantly disposed toward pirates as the island he had just left. Despite the Brethren's victory in the waters surrounding Shipwreck Island, and Lord Beckett's timely and well-deserved demise, ports such as Nassau and Port Royal were still a dicey prospect these days for pirates. Jack feared that it would take a considerable amount of time (if ever!) for the stink of hate, prejudice and injustice lingering from Beckett's one-man reign of terror to clear—an evil miasma that had brought gibbeted death to scores of the innocent as well as the guilty—before the Caribbean air was relatively safe for a circumspect (and incognito) pirate to breathe again.

He was now, as it were, in the market for a new ship and a new crew to replace the ones that Barbossa had shanghaied out from under him. The old crew, he reckoned Hector could have—if they had been so easily wooed by the shifty old bastard, then good riddance to the lot of 'em. But the _Black Pearl _… she was irreplaceable, as essential to Jack as the breath in his body and the blood running through his veins. He must needs get her back, by any means possible …

And, for a pirate, there was still no better place than Tortuga, with ships and seamen of all types coming and going at all hours of the day and night, for "acquiring" what was required to launch his mission to reclaim his beloved _Pearl_. Even now, as Jack was taking his leisure at the Faithful Bride, Gibbs was out, busily prowling the docks for likely ships with unusually lax security.

Jack smiled crookedly over his tankard of rum. Aaah, yes! Delegation of tasks was a wonderful thing!

Indeed, Tortuga had everything he needed, at present … including certain reasonably-priced amenities to which he had become accustomed (once said amenities had forgiven him for the harsh words, and he them for the admittedly well-deserved face-slaps, that had been exchanged upon their last parting). Business as usual, as far as he was concerned.

And now, here was a bit of _unfinished _personal business, dropping into his lap—or rather, into a chair across from him—at his favourite corner table of the Faithful Bride.

* * * * *

"Jack!" She peered at him from under her tricorne, her smile deceptively welcoming … old friends, meeting unexpectedly at a social function, very civilised. But, in her men's clothing, hair pulled back in a sailor's queue, lips slightly chapped from wind and salt spray, nose sunburnt, she could hardly be mistaken anymore for a lady of "polite society." And here, at the Faithful Bride, there would be no tea in delicate china cups; only rum and ale, in battered pewter tankards and humble earthenware mugs.

And, as he felt the bottom falling out of his life again at the sight of her, and memories, like ghosts, drifted around him, whispering in his ear, he seriously doubted the ensuing conversation would be tea-party polite.

"My Liege," Jack responded, sardonically. "Or do you prefer 'Missus Turner' now?"

A flicker of some emotion passed quickly over her face, there and almost immediately gone. "'Elizabeth' will do just fine," she said.

"Well, Lizzie," he said, deliberately eschewing the formal for the nickname, "To what do I owe the pleasure of this little impromptu reunion?"

The corner of her mouth quirked … a familiar and quite endearing expression that tugged at his memory, and threatened to shake loose the chains he had so carefully forged around his heart. "Actually, I had no idea you were here in Tortuga, Jack." She leaned forward, and laid her small hand over his, where it rested on his mug. "But I'm glad you are!" The warmth in her gaze, and of her hand upon his, made something in his chest tighten, and an emotion he had worked so hard to bury stir to life …

A hank of her golden hair, having worked its way free of its queue, fell forward against her glowing cheek, and his fingers suddenly itched to brush it back, to linger, to trail across that sun-blushed skin, skim over those full lips …

And, of course, where his peripatetic fingers wandered, his lips, jealous creatures that they were, simply would _have _to follow …

Unbidden, a memory bobbed to the surface of his mind: their first, last, and _only_ kiss, on the deck of the Kraken-doomed _Pearl _…

He recalled, with stunning clarity …

… _the press of her lithe body against his own …_

… _her lips meeting his with a passion that just couldn't have been feigned (could it?) …_

… _his own body's answering response as he was sucked into a vortex of hunger, of desire, of exultation …_

Then …

_… the feel of cold steel closing around his wrist … _

_… the snick of a manacle snapping shut…_

_… the bellowing roar of the Kraken, like a trumpet-call to doomsday … _

_… the searing hot desolation of the Locker…_

The bubble burst, and his hand suddenly clenched into a fist, tightening around the handle of the mug.

_Oh no you don't, missy! Not again! You won't lure me in this time …_

He steeled his heart, and fixed her with eyes as hard and black as coal, pointedly moving his mug, and his hand, out from under her touch. "Are you, now? Glad, eh?"

"Jack …" she tried once more to reach for his hand, and again he deliberately moved it away from her grasp. "Could we talk? Something's happened since we parted company, and I've some rather important things to tell you…"

"Talk," he said, disdain icing the word like a rime of winter frost, "That's the problem, Lizzie. When we're together, that's _all _you want to do … _talk_. Quite the ear-bender, you are. That is, when you're not trying to kill me."

He turned his black-rimmed eyes upward, forefinger touching his lower lip, as though contemplating the grimy ceiling of the tavern. "Let's see … what shall we talk about? There's the usual popular subjects, of course: the weather, which never fails to speak for itself … or gardening, of which I know bugger-all … or the latest gossip, if you're interested in who's sleeping with whom…" He gave a pointed glance around the tavern, "… which, this being Tortuga, could take days … or perhaps our mutual health." He leaned forward, and started to lift up the hem of his greatcoat, "Or perhaps you'd like to see the new tattoo I got on me bum …"

She seemed perplexed that he was not as happy to see her as she was to see him. "Jack … I don't understand why you're being this way…"

"And what way is that, Lizzie?"

She narrowed her eyes slightly at him. "Snide. Ill-mannered. Disagreeable. After all, I thought we parted more-or-less amicably ..."

She was right. He _knew_ she was right, which put him even more out of sorts with her. But having had weeks now to ruminate, to fume, to regret, to fantasise over what could have been … hell, to bloody well _miss_ her, despite his best efforts to cleanse his mind of her, to close the book, as it were, on the story of Elizabeth Swann-sodding-Turner, Jack was in no mood to be conciliatory. He was in a mood, in fact, to have himself a bloody good snit.

"Oh, yes … best of mates, we were … while you were rushin' off to knock boots with your new husband. Couldn't get away fast enough, could you? And without so much as a goodbye kiss…"

"Jack!' she interrupted his flippant diatribe, and when he looked in her eyes the confusion had been supplanted with a flash of anger. "If you're going to sit there acting like a horse's arse—sulking and pouting—perhaps it's best I leave…"

"I am _not _sulking!" he muttered, "And I _never _pout!" His actions then belied his words, as his lower lip thrust out petulantly.

"And, if I recall correctly, it was _you_ who refused a farewell kiss, not me…" she said, with heat … and was that the merest trace of hurt … of _disappointment _… in her voice?

_Oho! Is that, then, what this is all about?_

A cocky grin replaced the pout. "Aaaah! So that's why you're here, is it? Been obsessin' about that thwarted kiss, have you?" His voice lowered suggestively as he leaned forward, peering up at her through his dark lashes. "You wanted it, and I denied you. And Lizzie Swann is accustomed to getting what she wants…"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes … of course. That has to be it! There's no other reason I could be in Tortuga, except to hunt you down for that elusive Last Kiss."

He leaned back in his chair, his grin turning smug. _The lady doth protest too much, methinks … _"Can't say as I blame you, luv. You'd not be the first lass who's gone to extraordinary lengths for the pleasure and the privilege of a kiss from Captain Jack Sparrow! In fact, I'm renowned far and wide for my osculatory prowess."

"As well as, no doubt, for your enormous ego."

He smirked. "It's not egotism, luv, if it's all true! Need I produce sworn, signed affidavits from the lasses in question?"

"No doubt, forged ones…"

He leaned closer, with a rather nasty, virgin-eating pirate smile. "And, speaking of … _enormous _things. Perhaps you'd care to repair to one of the Bride's private rooms, where I can give you a … ahem … _personal _demonstration of said prowess…?"

She eyed him, dubiously. "At kissing?"

He allowed his eyes to wander up and down her, and was pleased to see her face flush. _Interestin'… _"Among other things…"

She emitted a small, rather unladylike snort. "Thank you … but _no_, thank you."

"Well, if you're not here to kiss me senseless and ravish me person, then why exactly _are _you here?" he asked, and motioned a passing barmaid to bring him more rum. "I would have thought you'd be back at Shipwreck Island, or some other little retreat, making a cosy little nest for yourself, setting up housekeeping, keeping the home fires burning until William's return in … what is it, now? … nine years, ten months, two weeks, and how many odd days …"

"Jack, I should think you know me better than that …"

He frowned. That was exactly the problem. He'd wanted to "know" her … God and the devil himself only knew how long he had ached for the "knowing" of her! And all he had gotten, so far, from all that aching and wanting was a kiss … and of the Judas variety, at that!

"In fact, the reason I'm here, is … I've all but decided to give up the _Empress _… to let Tai Huang take it, and his crew, back to Singapore …"

Jack's eyebrows rose. "And why is that, luv? Discovered a pirate's life is _not_ for you after all? Not up to the rigours of command? Tired of being a captain so soon?" His lip curled, letting his gold teeth show. "I'm surprised, Lizzie. I thought you were made of sterner stuff!"

"That's not it at all…!" she continued, "And if all I had wanted was a 'cosy nest' and a quiet life of domestic bliss, I would have been content, years ago, to stay in Port Royal, marry whoever my father chose for me, and play the dutiful daughter and wife." She smiled. "You, yourself, were the one who recognised me for what I am: a pirate."

"Yes, well … a little too late to prevent myself becoming Kraken-bait, as I recall."

She winced, and lowered her gaze. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Some things are not easily forgotten, or forgiven, luv," Jack said. "Best remember that in future, when you decide to end a man's life." The barmaid brought his drink, exchanging a full mug for his empty one.

"Although I notice that didn't keep you from saving my life … yet again … when the _Dutchman _went down …"

Her words triggered a sense-memory…

Her arms, wrapped around him, her wet cheek pressed to his chest, the sensation of soaring as the world and the deck of the _Dutchman_ dropped away …

_No. Nope! Don't think about that … that way madness lies!_

He bit out, rather callously, "A small error in judgment, Lizzie. One I swear I won't make again."

He saw the barb strike. Saw the hurt in her eyes as it hit its mark.

Rather than the expected sense of satisfaction, he was immediately awash with regret. Even more so when her earlier words actually sunk in … and then he could have kicked himself for being a great, bloody fool.

Lizzie was here.

The _Empress _was here.

He needed a ship.

Lizzie _had _a ship … _and _a crew.

And now, he might have just ruined his chances to … _persuade _her … to let him "borrow" them …

Because now her eyes were flashing at him again, anger displacing the hurt like lightning presaging a thunderstorm. And, as she pinned him with her hot glare, he felt certain he was about to feel the brunt of that storm's fury …

She had no sooner opened her mouth, when a serving wench passed by with a tray laden with mugs of ale and a large platter of something that reeked of boiled cabbage and cooked onions.

Suddenly Elizabeth went pale and froze, a look of mild panic flitting through those dark amber eyes as she placed trembling fingers against her lips, covering her mouth. "Excuse me …" she gasped out, rising rather unsteadily from her chair, and making a beeline for the back door of the Faithful Bride.

Jack stared after her, a bemused frown furrowing his bandanna-swathed brow. "Was it somethin' I said?" he muttered to himself as the alley door banged shut behind Elizabeth.

He had little time to ponder Lizzie's strange and hasty leave-taking, though, as another shade from his past saw fit to visit him …

"Jack Sparrow! Well, I see you ain't lost your touch wit' de ladies," a familiar, feminine voice, spiced with an Islands accent (Jamaican, with perhaps just a trace of French), sounded at his elbow.

He turned, looked up to see Anamaria standing over him, arms folded across her chest, gazing at him with a mixture of sternness and amusement in her dark eyes.

"Ana!" he exclaimed, both glad and a bit wary to see her. He wracked his brain briefly to make sure he had given her no cause recently to slap him, but ever since he had kept his promise to her, and gifted her with a new ship, taken during one of the _Pearl_'s more successful raids (quite a lovely ship, at that — as swift, sleek and beautiful as her new captain), their account had been square. She had left the _Pearl _and set out on her own piratical pursuits on her new ship—formerly bearing the very unpirate-like name of the _Rosebud_, since rechristened the _Midnight Rose_. That had been well over a year ago, just before Jack had set off for Turkey in pursuit of a certain elusive key …

As his eyes swept over her, he saw that she had changed … her clothing no longer simple canvas sailor's trews, homespun cotton shirt, and threadbare vest, but something much more suited to her new role as a pirate captain. She now wore fine dark broadcloth breeches that clung to her slim thighs like a second skin, an intricately embroidered russet satin waistcoat, and a well-tailored brocaded topcoat which, Jack noticed with envy, put his own comparatively shabby raiment to shame. The headcloth tied 'round her brow was silk the same deep shade of blue-green as the vivid waters of the Caribbean, shot with threads of silver. Piracy certainly had agreed with Anamaria, and she wore her new confidence well.

"Where've you been keepin' yourself, luv? I almost expected you to resurface at Shipwreck Cove in time for the battle."

She scoffed. "I ain't no pirate lord, Jack! Nor am I a fool. When Beckett started makin' t'ings too hot here, I took me an' my _Rose _off to friendlier waters! There _are _still some places in dis world where de East India Company don't prowl—yet." She eyed him closely. "And how are you, Jack? I hear tell ye been dead since I see you last, though ye look well 'nough now."

For a moment, he felt the shadows of the Locker closing in on him again. But he pushed them away, and gave Ana a wan smile. "You know me, luv. Got as many lives as a cat, I have."

"I also hear ye done lost de _Pearl _again … and after all de trouble we went t'rough to help get 'er back for you." She shook her head and _tsk_ed. "Very careless of ye, Jack."

He scowled into his rum. "Yes … well. Rub salt in me wounds, why don't ya, Ana."

"And to dat bastard Barbossa—for de _second _time!" She shook her head again, then pinned Jack with an incisive look. "And how dat man come to be alive again, after you kilt him?"

He eyed her narrowly. "I'm surprised, Ana, that your informant didn't complete the story for you. You really need to get yourself a more reliable source."

She smiled secretively. "Let's just say me 'source' is not dat big on talkin'. It take a lot of time, and patience, to get a coherent story outta him."

"You might try massive quantities of rum to loosen his tongue. Or perhaps you should threaten to cut it out entirely, if he doesn't spill. I'm led to understand that is quite an effective method of persuasion."

She gave him an odd look, then seemed to shrug the comment off.

"How long she been like dis?" Ana asked, nodding in the direction in which Elizabeth had disappeared.

"Like wot? Intractable? Intolerable? Insufferable?" he sulked, pouting.

Ana fixed her eyes on Jack, a frown creasing the smooth cocoa skin between her shapely eyebrows. "No. Pregnant."

Jack nearly fell out of his chair; he couldn't have been more stunned if Ana had whacked him across the side of the skull with an oar.

"P—pregnant?" Jack stuttered, his voice coming out a high-pitched squeak, as he stared at Ana.

Ana nodded. "Aye."

Jack's eyes turned away to also fix on Elizabeth's departure point, his face going through a series of shifting, elastic contortions as he sputtered, "But … she's not … I mean, she couldn't be …" His expression finally settled into wide-eyed horror. "… could she?"

"I'm a woman, Jack … wit' four married sisters. I seen de condition often enough to know de signs…" She cocked her head, listening intently over the tavern's din, then jerked her head at the back door. "Even now, she's heavin' her guts out in yon alleyway, sure 'nough." She nodded, sagely. "One of my sisters, she got took like dat at de smell of cabbage. Another, t'was fish — which was a real bad t'ing, her bein' married to a fisherman. She was sick for a solid mont', 'cause de house and her man _always_ stink of fish."

Her keen eyes bored into Jack, as though trying to penetrate his skull, to see the thoughts inside. She gave a quick flick of her head toward the door through which Elizabeth had vanished. "Is it _yours_?"

Jack became even more flustered, and couldn't seem to prevent his hands flapping around him like a pair of agitated birds, nearly knocking over his mug of rum as he squawked in affronted outrage, "Wot? Mine? Impossible!"

Her eyes narrowed at him. "Where a man and a woman are concerned, Jack, _all _t'ings be possible. And I know how ye are wit' women …" She smirked. "… partic'ly one pretty as _dat_ girl."

"There, you have it all wrong, Ana. Lizzie and I are just _friends _… we've never … I mean, we're not … Ana, she's a _married woman_!" He spread his tar-stained hands, casting her a wide-eyed and ingenuous look, as if that settled the matter.

"Dat never stopped ye before, Jack Sparrow, as well ye know … And you can't tell me dat you don't _wanna '_know' her…" She grinned, slyly. "But dis is a rare and auspicious day all de same … when dere be a pretty lady dat Cap'n Jack Sparrow ain't been able to seduce!" Her grin turned slightly wry, no doubt thinking about her own weakness in this area…

He glared at her, and puffed out his chest, trying to shore up his wounded male pride. "Oh, don't get me wrong, Ana … I could … if I wanted to … if _she _wanted … except for the fact that … well, her husband's a good friend of mine."

Sharp eyes transfixed him. "No such t'ing as a 'good friend', for a pirate. You and I know dat, from experience, eh? And, I repeat …dat never stopped ye before." The corner of her lip quirked, and her eyes flooded with amused wonder. "So … she and young Turner finally jumped de broom, eh? I take it, den, dat _he_ is de father?"

"Presumably so," Jack said. As averse as he was to speculating about just what went on between the young newlyweds on that little island (whenever he thought on it, he couldn't help imagining himself in Will's place, doing lovely and delicious wedding night things with Lizzie, which then gave … _rise _… to other sensitive issues, which then had to be taken care of), he at last admitted to himself that Ana might be right about Lizzie's "delicate condition." It would certainly go a long way toward explaining the Pirate King's erratic (well … more erratic than usual) behaviour.

"And where's dat husband now?"

Jack fell silent for a moment. "That, darlin', is not so easy to explain."

She sat down, leaned back in her chair, and set her feet up on the sticky, rum-soaked table. "I got de time," she said.

Jack scowled slightly as he realised she wouldn't let the matter rest. Women! Why were they determined to be his bane today? "Well … in a way … that is, for all intents and purposes … at least in the eyes of the laws of nature and of man … Will Turner is … well, for the most part …" Jack allowed his moustache to droop as he donned a sad and thoughtful face. "… _dead_."

Ana's eyebrows rose. "So, she's a widow-woman now?"

"Not exactly …"

"Dead's dead, ain't it?"

He pinned her with a telling look. "Now, you know better than that, Ana luv," he said, his voice a gentle rebuke. "Look at _me_, for example! And have you so soon forgotten the curse of Cortez' gold?"

Her eyes widened as the implication set in. "Will Turner, den, is … _un_dead?"

Jack nodded. "And, not only that … he is the new captain at the helm of the _Flying Dutchman _…"

Ana whistled through her teeth. "I had heard de rumours of Davy Jones' fall … and talk of a new captain." Her eyes narrowed. "How you know dis is true?"

Jack's dark eyes grew serious as his mind flooded with the unpleasant memories of that fateful day. "I was the one as helped him plunge the blade through Jones' foul heart. I was there when he … died. And when Bootstrap wielded his knife to finish the task, and give the Dead Man's Chest its new occupant."

"Dey say de _Dutchman _always gotta have a captain…" she intoned, repeating the tale she had oft heard

Jack's trinkets chattered as he nodded his head. "He who stabs the heart, takes his place… for eternity. Unless, of course, someone _else _comes along and stabs _his _heart …"

"Ten years at sea, doin' his fait'ful duty … and only one single day on land." She shook her head in pity. "Poor woman! She only get to be wit' her husband one day ev'ry ten years!"

Jack's frown finally lifted as he quirked a gold-flashing half-smile. "There's some husbands as might consider that an ideal arrangement!"

Ana's glare pinned him. "Some wives, too … and wit' better reason, I daresay!" She flicked her head again toward the alley door. "But she's not one of dem put-upon wives, glad to see dere husband's back when dey go. For her, ten years wit'out young Turner in her life, and in her bed, is like to be a long, lonely hell. And now her, wit' a babe on de way, like as not." She shook her head ruefully, then slanted a sidelong glance at him and crooked a suspiciously Jack-like grin. "But at least dey made good use of deyr one day, eh! And clearly Turner not be … lackin' in certain areas, as _you _like to say."

She swung her legs down from the table, and stood up, slapping Jack on the shoulder. "You be careful wit' her, Jack. She's in for hard mont's ahead. Havin' a baby ain't easy on a woman, under de best circumstances. And wit' her man gone, and wit' no home and roost but a ship… and a _pirate _ship at dat … It surely ain't de _safest_ place … for a woman in her condition."

"Then what the devil is she doing in Tortuga?" Jack asked, mostly rhetorically.

"Hmmm … could be dat de mama-to-be don' even know she's wit' child. My older sister, she be nigh on four mont's wit' her first before she finally cottoned to what was goin' on. 'Course, she never was de brightest in de fam'ly…" She leaned down, and whispered in Jack's ear, almost conspiratorially. "If ye can, ask her when's de last time she bleed. Dat oughta tell de story …"

"Bleed …?"

"Aye. As in, _had her courses _… and when did she notice dey go missin'?"

Jack paled a bit under his tan. Well, Lizzie _did _say she had something rather important to tell him — that something had changed since the last time he'd seen her…

Ana laughed, and rose to leave, but Jack's hand whipped out and closed around her forearm like a flesh-and-bone manacle. "Ana," he said, a look of desperation in his face. "If … what you say is true… about Lizzie … Well … What do I do?"

She laughed again. "Oh no, Jack Sparrow … dis is one trouble you gonna have to find yer _own_ way outta! Me … I'm goin' back to me ship …" She smiled coyly. "… and me new man." She glanced up, across the room, and her face suddenly brightened a notch. Jack knew that look. At one time, she had looked at _him _that way … before he had run off with her fishing boat, that is!

Following her eyes, his own swept the crowded tavern, until they alit on a familiar figure, wizened, grey and grizzled … Cotton! And, of course, his ubiquitous, multi-hued avian friend, perched on his shoulder.

His own face broke into a grin. Well, there was one loyal crewmember, at least, who had not seen fit to join Barbossa's turncoat crew! Even as he raised his hand to beckon Cotton over, the old sailor's eyes slid past Jack without a flicker of reaction, to fasten on Anamaria. The warmth that suddenly bloomed in the old tar's eyes was a match for Ana's.

As realisation dawned, Jack's jaw dropped. "Cotton?" he said, incredulously. "_Cotton's _your 'new man'?"

There was a lightness in Ana's tone as she replied. "Aye … dat he is. Couldn't bear servin' under Barbossa … jumped ship at de first port dey made. Lucky me and my _Rose _come dere shortly after. He's now me new First Mate …" She slanted him a wicked glance. "…and mate in _other _ways as well…!"

Jack was having trouble wrapping his mind around this latest revelation. For a moment, he thought it might be the Locker's madness, returning again. But, no …

There had been no rum in the Locker.

He lifted his tankard and took a deep draught.

"I mean … _Cotton!_" he said again. "Why, Ana … he's … he's … _old_!"

"Much experience come wit' age, Jack!"

"He … he can't _talk_!"

She turned to fix incisive eyes on Jack. "Aye! Sometimes a man an' woman don' _need _words …" She crooked a brow, giving him a significant look. "In fact, sometimes a man can talk _too _much …"

"Darlin' … he's … he's got _no bloody tongue_!"

"Dere lots of t'ings he _does _have, Jack … not de least of which is _heart _…" The corner of her mouth crooked up, wickedly, eyes alight with mischief. "… not to mention, a quite impressive—"

"_Ana!" _There were just _some _images he didn't need parading through his mind …

She laughed and fingered Jack's chin braids, her eyes and expression softening in remembrance. "Aye … you're de one who taught me how delightful a man's tongue can be, when put to proper use, in de right place. But when dat tongue is used to tell pretty lies, to distract a woman from de real truth … to steal her heart, and more, from her…"

Jack pressed his lips together, and nodded, ruefully. He knew he had done her ill in the past. Used her affection for him, had his way with her (or rather, as he remembered it, they had their way with each other—_several_ times!), and then, when she still lay asleep in sated pleasure, crept out like a thief in the night, and slipped away with her boat, the _Jolly Mon_. And though their account was now square, those past memories were still there, and would ever cast a shadow over their … _friendship_.

"But I t'ink your lady King is returnin' now. And best I be off." Ana leaned forward, and pressed a fond kiss to Jack's cheek. "Good-bye, Jack Sparrow." She cast a sidelong glance to the approaching figure. "And … good luck." She smiled saucily. "I t'ink you be needin' it!"

She turned and walked away, and Jack sighed as his eyes strayed, distracted by the sway of her hips under the brocade topcoat. As she reached Cotton, he made Ana a small bow, took up her hand and kissed it, like a well-heeled gentleman greeting a high-born lady, and tucked her arm through the crook of his own. As they turned to leave, Cotton caught Jack's eye, smiled a semi-toothless grin, his weather-beaten face crinkling up in a mass of wrinkles, sketched him a small salute with fingers to his brow, and gave him a wink.

Jack gaped, watching them go. "Ana … and _Cotton_!" He shook his head, as though trying to clear it, setting his baubles jangling again. "In-credible!"

He was still standing there when he heard a light footfall behind him, and turned to see Elizabeth, looking quite peaked and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Sorry, Jack … I'm afraid I'm not feeling all that well today..."

Elizabeth swayed slightly on her feet, and Jack sprang forward, his hand reaching for one elbow, the other slipping around her waist, lending his support. "Here, luv … let me help you to your seat …"

Her eyes flicked up to him in surprise. "I'm all right, Jack, really …" she protested, but nevertheless allowed him to settle her onto the bench. Once seated, she slanted him a glance. "Jack … Perhaps we can have that talk now? You seem in a … well, if not a better, at least a _different _mood than you were when I … stepped away. And what I have to tell you _is_ important."

He patted her hand. "That's all right, luv. It can wait until you're feelin' up to it…"

Now she turned to look him fully in the face, with a quizzical expression. "Are _you _all right?"

He spread his arms and grinned. "Right as rain, darlin'. Never better." He glanced around the crowded tavern. "But, all things considered, if we're goin' to have a little heart-to-heart, don't you think we should retire to somewhere a little more … private?"

She laughed, sharply. "You never do give up, do you? If you think for a moment I'm going to go upstairs with you…"

He held his hands up, defensively. "Nothin' of the kind, luv. Word of honour. But, if you'd prefer _your _territory over _mine_, perhaps we could repair to the _Empress_, and continue our discussion there."

She looked keenly at him with narrowed eyes, then sighed. "I suppose you're right. What I have to tell you does concern a rather personal and private matter…"

He stood up and, as Cotton had just done with Anamaria, sketched her a slight bow, "As you wish, My Liege." He proffered his arm, flashing her his most dazzling golden grin. "Shall we?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A Delicate Predicament  
**by Luvvycat

* * *

_**A/N:** All notes from Part 1 still apply, except Anamaria isn't in this part. So, without further ado, on to Part 2, and the conclusion of our tale ..._

* * *

**Part Two**

As they made their way to the docks, Elizabeth was aware of Jack watching her surreptitiously from the corner of his eye, and wondered—not for the first time—what he was up to. His initial hostility at their reunion, she had halfway expected. It had always been thus between her and Jack—fire and ice, taunts and teases, insults and verbal sparring. But this sudden change in him … this solicitousness, this handling her as though she were made of delicate, fragile porcelain … disquieted her. What had changed from the time she stepped away, to embarrass herself in the alleyway rather than in front of Jack, and the time she returned?

And how would he take the proposal she intended to make him?

In one thing, Jack had been correct. She _had _regretted not having had a chance to give him a proper good-bye. Though she had decided, that day on the rain-soaked, battle-besieged _Pearl_, to tie her future to Will's, she could not deny that there was … _something _between her and Jack. A connection that defied definition.

Over the past weeks, her night-time dreaming, which had once been filled only with Will, and sweet memories of their one day together, began to change … Jack's face, Jack's body, coming to replace Will's … Jack, holding her … Jack, kissing her … Jack, doing all the delicious things she and Will had done with one another …

… and more …

And she would awaken … trembling with want, burning with need …

For Jack.

Jack, whom she had dismissed from her life, and likely would never see again.

Here. Now. Again. With her.

Like a miracle.

_Or, like my worst nightmare, come to life_, she thought, seeing again his cold eyes, hearing the bitterness in his voice, back at the Faithful Bride.

Was it too late? Did he truly hate her that much?

She nodded a brief greeting to Tai Huang as she and Jack boarded the _Empress_, told him he was in charge for the night, and steered herself and Jack straight for the captain's cabin. Once there, Elizabeth wasted no time in offering Jack a seat, pouring him a glass of obligatory rum, and getting straight down to business.

"As I told you at the Bride, I've all but decided to give up the _Empress_." At Jack's smirk, she quickly added, "And, _no_, not because I've also decided to give up piracy. The plain truth is, Tai Huang and his men want to return to familiar waters … they never bargained on plying the pirate trade so far from home. And I have no intention of making Singapore my own base of operations. Everything I lo—" She caught herself in mid-word, felt her cheeks flush as Jack looked sharply up at her, eyes dark and penetrating, then quickly revised, "Everything I _know_ is here. I'd be as much a fish out of water in Singapore as they are here in the Caribbean. Besides …" she lifted one shoulder in a small shrug, "A Chinese junk, in these waters, is hardly inconspicuous. And, as you well know, conspicuity is not an asset when it comes to eluding the notice of the Royal Navy."

He gave a half-smile and a bob of his head, the bangles in his hair flashing with candlelight at the motion, and her heart lurched as she realised how much she had missed the mere sight of him. "I do see your point, luv."

"And as I have no intention of returning to Port Royal (for obvious reasons), or for that matter to Shipwreck Cove (for more complicated ones), my thought was to join up with another Pirate Lord. You see, these weeks on the _Empress _have impressed upon me just how much I need to learn about captaining a ship, and commanding a crew. I have learned much from Tai Huang about the workings of the _Empress_, but eventually I will need a new ship, and it occurred to me it would be best to ally myself, at least temporarily, with an experienced captain, one able to school me in the areas where my own experience is rather … lacking."

Jack seemed lost in contemplation of his rum, for he remained silent for a moment, staring into his glass, before replying, "And did you have a specific Pirate Lord in mind for this … alliance?" His eyes flashed with dark humour as they flicked back up to her, "And if you _dare _say Hector Barbossa, I swear, I'll draw me pistol and shoot you where you stand!"

She hesitated, suddenly unsure of herself, just as she was equally sure that he already _knew _what she was going to say. That he was taking inordinate pleasure in _making _her say it … "Well … it had occurred to me … What I mean is … I thought the ideal solution would be …"

Jack sighed with mock impatience, the bright gleam in his eyes belying the truth. "Just spit it out, Lizzie. Tell me what it is you _want_." He smiled, slow and wicked. Oh, yes … he was enjoying this, all right!

She closed her eyes briefly, opened them to find his eyes still fixed intently upon her. "I thought … I could come aboard the _Pearl_. Be a part of her crew, while _you _taught me everything I needed to know…"

There was a brief flicker of triumph, of satisfaction, in his eyes. "Give up the _Empress_, eh? And come aboard the _Pearl_?"

"Yes," she said, simply.

"With me?" he purred.

She could only nod in assent.

She was surprised by his abrupt snort of laughter. "Perhaps you would like to reconsider that course of action…"

Her spine stiffened as her heart dropped into her boots. _He doesn't want me. Not on the _Pearl_. Not in his life. _"I'm _serious_, Jack…"

He looked at her, eyes dancing with amusement. "I've no doubt you are. However, there's only one small problem with that plan, darlin'."

"And what's that?"

The laughter in his eyes diminished, as a strange expression, akin to a wince of pain, crossed his face. "The _Pearl_'s not here."

It struck her, then, that she hadn't seen the _Pearl _in port when she arrived. That was why she had not expected to see Jack at the Faithful Bride. It had never occurred to her that Jack would be there, without his _Pearl_. "What do you mean, _not here_?"

"I mean, not in Tortuga. Not, as far as I know, within a hundred bloody miles of here."

She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Oh, Jack … you didn't …? Not again …?"

His expression turned sheepish, and he fidgeted in his seat. "Aye. I've lost her … to Barbossa. Again."

"Oh, Jack …! When … How?"

"A little over a fortnight ago. We stopped here to restock supplies … and to give the crew a bit of shore leave … a chance to take advantage of the comforts one cannot find onboard a ship." At her sharp look, he added. "You understand, Lizzie. Men have needs, don't they?"

_They certainly do_, she thought. _And women do, too …_

"And is that how you lost her … Barbossa took her whilst you were seeing to your own 'needs'?"

Jack squirmed under her gaze, and she was sure she had hit the mark with unerring accuracy. "No need to go into details, luv. Let's just say I _was _otherwise occupied when Hector decided to reassert his spurious claim as captain of the _Pearl_."

She suspected what Jack meant by "otherwise occupied" and felt a stab of jealousy piercing her heart…

"I see," she said, tersely. "And have you any idea where he might be bound?"

His grin returned. "I know _exactly _where he'll be bound … thanks to these …"

He opened his coat, reached in and pulled out a long, tubular object, which he placed on the table in front of him, and unrolled, revealing …

She sucked in breath, sharply. "Barbossa's charts!"

"No, luv," he slanted a wicked grin. "_Sao Feng_'s charts … _my _charts, now!" His grin widened. "Finders keepers, darlin'. A core principle of the Pirate Code!"

"Like Barbossa and the _Pearl_…?" she said, archly.

He grimaced. "That's entirely different, luv." His voice lowered to a possessive growl. "The _Pearl _is mine. She always has been, from the very first."

She finally started to understand her role in Jack's plan. "I see. And you, being without a ship at present, hope to enlist my aid … and my ship … to pursue Barbossa, and take back what you consider yours."

The grin returned, at full-bore strength. "Knew you'd see it my way, luv! Great wits jump together, eh?"

She held up a hand. "Now, wait just a minute, Jack. I know the Pirate Code, too, and there's another key tenet which, I think, needs to be considered. Namely: _What's in it for me_?"

His grin faltered just a bit. "Besides the supreme satisfaction of thwartin' Barbossa yet again, and helpin' me regain the _Pearl_?"

She shook her head. "Not sufficient incentive. Try again."

He seemed nonplussed a moment, then, brightening, stabbed a finger at the chart, at a point along the Florida coast. "See here, Lizzie? The Fountain of Youth! That's what Barbossa's after—a permanent cure for death! Eternal life. Think of it … what it would mean if I could secure a quantity of the Aqua de Vida! You and I, luv … we could become immortal!"

She gave a snort of disbelief. "Fables and legends, Jack! Don't you think that if there really _had _been this famed 'water of life' that it would have been found, long ago?" She fixed him with a steely gaze. "Still not enough!"

Jack's face darkened, and he threw up his hands in frustration. "Lizzie, why can't you just be a good egg—do a favour for an old friend, out of the kindness of your heart—and lend me your ship? After all, you won't be needin' it, soon enough."

She flashed him a confused glare. "And what do you mean by _that_?"

Jack started squirming again. "Well … that _other _little thing you were goin' to tell me. That _private _and _personal _thing …"

"And how do you know what I was going to tell you?"

"Well, it's _obvious_, luv … isn't it?" He waved an elegant hand at her, sweeping her form from head to toe.

"Perhaps you'd care to enlighten _me_." Her eyes narrowed. "What is it you _think _you know?"

"Well … about … you know…"

"I'm afraid I really _don't _know. And even if I _did _know, just how did _you _come to know it?"

"Well … Anamaria told me!"

Now she was completely confused. "Anamaria? And how does Anamaria enter into this matter?"

"She was there … back at the Faithful Bride. _She _told me."

"I see. And how in bloody hell would _Anamaria _know what I was going to tell you?" Her head was starting to spin, and she pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling perhaps the beginnings of a headache coming on. But that was an expected collateral effect of talking with Jack Sparrow. His circular conversation, at times, was enough to make anyone dizzy!

"Well … she's a _woman_, luv. Women _know _these things… particularly about … other women, and … well, _women_'s things…"

Elizabeth's heart skipped a beat. Was it possible? Had she been _that _obvious? Had Ana been able to see… to recognise… what Jack, apparently, was blind to? About her feelings for him…?

"Oh, yes … of course. And just what _did _Anamaria tell you?"

"About … well … about your … er …" His voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, and his eyes peered knowingly into hers, as if they shared some deep, dark secret, "… _condition_?"

"My condition?" she parroted. She had absolutely no clue what Jack was talking about. "What _condition_?" He opened his mouth, and she held up a warning finger. "And if you say '_well_…' again, I'm going to go find one, and bloody throw you down it!"

"You _know _…" he said, making a series of arcane gestures in the direction of her person, the meaning of which were entirely a mystery to her, and in fact looked no more or less than Jack in the throes of some sort of spastic fit.

"Jack, I've already told you, over and over, that I really _don't _know!" she said, her patience near the breaking point. As he widened his eyes, and his gesticulating became even more pronounced, she said, in exasperation, "And would you tell me _what_, in God's name, has gotten into you?"

He stilled, and again he gazed keenly into her eyes, his lip curling suggestively. "The pertinent question, I believe, darlin' … is what, exactly, got into _you _… about six weeks back, I'd say?" At her blank expression, he went on, but with a hint of uncertainty lacing his tone. "You know … the _baby_."

Her face froze in shock as the meaning of his words finally became clear. She surged to her feet, the sudden rush of motion setting her head reeling in earnest. "The _what_?!"

He surged to his feet as well, reaching out over the table to grab her arm in a firm yet gentle grip, steadying her. "The babe _in utero _… the junior whelp … the little Ferryman … the pending pirate princeling…"

Her face went through a series of strange contortions. "But … I'm _not _… I mean, I _couldn't _be …" Her expression finally settled on wide-eyed horror, as Jack helped lower her gently back into her chair. "… could I?" she finished, weakly.

He cleared his throat, and looked away briefly, as though in embarrassment, before continuing, in lowered tones, "Ana told me to ask you … when's the last time you had your courses, luv?"

It was a question she hadn't expected. She thought back, her mind feeling thick and sluggish, like so much treacle. So much had happened over the past few months … she hadn't really been keeping track … never really had _cause _to, after all. What need had a virgin to chart the phases of the moon, to know when she might conceive, or not?

But she _wasn't _a virgin anymore, was she? Not since the island ... not since she and Will had …

Elizabeth sucked in her breath, closed her eyes and whispered, with feeling, "Oh, bloody buggering hell!"

She dropped her head into her hands as the truth hit her full-force. How could she have been so stupid? So deaf and blind to what her own body was telling her? Granted, she had had many … distractions … over the past few months. But still …

She felt something brush across the top of her head, and realised it was Jack's hand, stroking her hair. Jack's arm, stealing 'round her shoulders. Then the other arm as well, pulling her into a loose embrace.

"You mean … you really _didn't _know?" Jack murmured into her hair.

"No, I truly didn't." She laughed, rather manically. "You know, I've been rather busy these past few months … what with freeing you from the Locker, losing my father, almost being ravished by a delusional Asian pirate who was convinced I was a sea goddess, seeing said pirate impaled and killed before my eyes, being captured and imprisoned on the _Dutchman_, escaping, watching a man I've known since childhood get skewered by my fiancé's cursed father, becoming a Pirate Lord, then a Pirate King, preparing a fleet for a war we couldn't possibly win, but somehow did, seeing my brand-new husband pinned to the deck of a sinking ship (do you detect a theme here, Jack, about the men in my life and pointy objects?), having my life saved, losing my virginity, saying good-bye to my husband for the next ten years, _and _to the man who repeatedly saved my life, having to rebuild said saved life and find my own way, alone, in a strange and hostile world …"

She drew a deep, shaky breath. "And now, on top of it all … _this_." She sighed. "Oh, Jack … what am I going to do?"

There was a moment of silence, and then his voice came again, gentle and tentative, "Well, luv … I understand, from women whose occupation requires them to know such things, that there are methods women can use to become … _un_pregnant …"

She pulled away from his arms and stared up at him, letting the horror show in her eyes. "Oh, Jack … no! If I am … _with child _… then it's Will's child … it's a part of him, and of me. I could never destroy that child. Never!"

Jack's smile was warm, comforting. "Somehow, I knew that was what you were goin' to say! But the question remains, luv … what _are _you goin' to do?"

_'You' … not 'we' … _she noticed.

Even though he was there, with her, she suddenly felt all alone … and a bit afraid.

"I don't know, Jack. I've never been in this … situation before. What do ladies usually do, when their husband's gone, nearly everyone she's ever known has … passed on, and her present 'home' is a pirate ship?"

"Well, if you're givin' the _Empress _up, as you say, it might not be your 'home' for long." He smiled. "However, once I get the _Pearl _back … perhaps …"

Her heart leapt. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? It never was advisable to take things for granted with Jack, but even knowing that, she felt a small spark of hope flicker to life within her …

"In the meantime … perhaps it's best we return immediately to Shipwreck Cove … get you settled in there, snug as a bug, while I'm off trackin' down Hector and his ill-gotten gains …"

She turned the possibilities over in her mind, then nodded, having come to a decision. "All right, Jack. You may use the _Empress _to pursue Barbossa … to win back the _Black Pearl _…" she held up her hand as a satisfied grin lit his features, "but on one condition." His grin faltered a bit, as though he suspected what was coming. "That _I_ go with you."

He shook his head, resolutely. "Definitely out of the question!"

She stiffened, and threw him a challenging look. "Why?"

He huffed and sputtered, his voice rising in disbelief. "_Why_? Because you're … well … you know." He swept his hand up and down, taking in the entirety of her body.

"I'm what?" She set her jaw in determination. "Helpless? Incapable?"

He rolled his eyes. "You know that's not what I mean!"

"Do I really, Jack? Then perhaps you should explain to me exactly what you _do _mean…"

"I mean, you can't bloody well go gallivantin' all over the Caribbean, while you're … _increasing_."

"And why not? Does being pregnant make me less of a pirate? Not fit for sailing? For God's sake, Jack, I'm not even _showing_! I don't even _feel _pregnant …" She recalled getting sick in the alley, back at the Faithful Bride. "Well … outside of a spot of nausea now and then. But that will pass. In any case …" she shivered, despite herself. "I am _not _going back to the Cove! There's something about that Captain Teague that absolutely unnerves me …"

Jack crooked a smile. "Be careful, luv. Truth to tell …" He seemed to hesitate a moment, before confessing, "…the man's me father."

She shot him a pointed look. "Well, I suppose _that _explains a lot…"

"And, despite all the rough waters that exist between him and me, I can say with absolute confidence that the man would never hurt you. In fact, he's probably the one most qualified, and motivated, to keep you safe. Besides meself, of course …" His smile turned into a leer. "But, one word of caution, luv. Though I'd trust the man with your life … tempting morsel that you are, I can't entirely rule out the possibility that he may try to seduce you …" She thought, behind the humour, she detected the flare of heat in his eyes.

Despite her current predicament, she found herself returning Jack's smile. "Like father, like son…" she quipped, recalling the old saying about the apple not falling far from the tree. "But I think not. I don't believe Shipwreck Cove is the place for me."

His face grew serious again, his voice low and earnest. "Lizzie, you really _should _consider winterin' at Shipwreck Cove, at least until the babe is born. It'll be safer for you, and there're resources there you'd have at your disposal: midwives … a fair to middlin' surgeon (once you sober 'im up) …"

"Jack—"

His eyes lit up with exaggerated wonder. "And _Christmas _is coming up! Nothin' like Yuletide at Shipwreck Cove …" Jack waved his arms about, illustratively, "It's an occasion not to be missed …very festive, with the town draped in swag, rum punch flowin' like water, dancin' and revelry in the streets, and ev'ryone decked out in strange and colourful costumes …"

"And that differs from _every day_ at Shipwreck Cove, _how_?" Elizabeth retorted, acidly, with an arch of one fine eyebrow.

"Well …"

"Jack, if you're using my _Empress _to go after Barbossa and the _Pearl_, I _am _going with you. End of discussion!"

Jack seemed to deflate. "Lizzie … be reasonable …"

"And 'reasonable' is staying at Shipwreck Cove, with your womanising father and a town full of strangers, when …?"

_When I'd much rather be with you …_

The unspoken phrase hung in the air between them.

"But you're their king …" Jack pressed on. "That's got to count for something…"

"Jack, be realistic. These are _pirates_. And there hasn't been a Pirate King in over a century … I doubt they'd show much deference to one now." She sighed. "What it all boils down to, is I'm a woman, expecting a baby … nothing kingly about that."

Jack fell, incredibly, silent.

"And," her eyes narrowed and she lifted her nose in the air, "if I'm Pirate King, and you are one of my lords, then … in my capacity as your liege, I _command _you to take me with you!"

"Lizzie…" he whinged.

"Jack!" she said, firmly.

"Why must you be so … bloody-minded!" he grumbled.

"Why must you be so … _arrogant_!" she countered.

His eyebrows disappeared under his headwrap, eyes flashing as they widened in outraged astonishment, voice rising two octaves as he said, incredulously, "_Me_, arrogant?" He flicked his fingertips at her, dismissively. "You … pampered, spoiled _Governor's daughter_!"

"You … unkempt _scallywag_!"

"Harpy!"

"Scoundrel!"

"Harridan!"

"Reprobate!"

_"Pirate!!!"_ they both said, in unison, practically nose-to-nose.

They stared at each other, chests heaving, eyes blazing with incinerating fury …

Jack raised his hands, and they fluttered around her head, as though he was repressing the urge to throttle her, and for a moment Elizabeth feared she had pushed him too far — that he actually _would _lay hands on her! But when his hands, finally, _did _alight on her shoulders … it was only to pull her close …

She opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly _Jack's _mouth was on hers, stifling her words, stealing her breath, and flooding her body with the kind of warmth she hadn't felt since the day of her honeymoon, when she had parted from her Ferryman husband, and had nothing to look forward to but a decade of lonely nights and a cold, empty bed …

For a few moments, she froze, letting Jack's lips move over hers, but too numb to respond. Coming momentarily to her senses, she leaned back out of the kiss, staring up into Jack's hooded eyes, her own wide with shock, face hot with anger, embarrassment … or perhaps something else? "What _are _you doing?"

He laughed, lightly, but with dark intent, and his eyes sparked with a combination of desire and humour. "Well, luv, if you have to ask, then I mustn't be doin' it right …"

This time, when he lowered his head to hers, he wrapped his arms around her still-slender waist—which, she knew, would soon soften, lose its shape as the child within grew—pulling her tightly to him. Her arms flailed for a moment, hands beating the air in the vicinity of his head, before she surrendered, melted against him, arms sliding under his elflocks to close around his neck.

For a long moment, she lost herself in the tide of sensation wrought by his oh-so-wonderful mouth, but when she felt his tongue sweep across her lower lip, seeking entrance, she gasped and pulled away. "Jack … we can't do this!"

He smirked, and gold twinkled in the candle-glow. "Clearly, as just demonstrated, we _can _…"

A twinge of guilt assailed her. "But … Will …"

He bent his head to nuzzle her neck. "Oh, I've got the _will_, all right …" he whispered hoarsely against her skin.

"No … I mean …" She swallowed, thickly, "… what about Will?"

His deep sigh was a hot tickle of breath in her ear. "Right now, I'm concentratin' on Elizabeth. If Will wants me, too, he'll just have to wait his turn …"

She choked on her quickly stifled laughter, and she felt him grin against her neck.

"Jack …" she hummed low in her throat as his lips began working at that sensitive spot, right behind her ear. _How did he know about that? _"… you're not going to dissuade me from my purpose."

"And what purpose is that, luv?" He pressed a kiss to her earlobe, his lips trailing along the arch of her cheekbone, making their way slowly back to her mouth. Her right hand slipped under his greatcoat, rested a moment at the rise of his hip, before moving on, fingers lightly tracing the line of the sash wrapped 'round his waist, pausing to toy with the buckle of his belt…

"To come with you …" Her left hand slid over his shoulder, up the back of his neck …

"You can't … too dangerous," he mouthed against her skin, and she couldn't suppress an anticipatory shiver as her right hand continued its journey, found what she was seeking … felt the press of the hard length fitting neatly against her palm ...

Her fingers closed around it, and she smiled briefly in satisfaction …

Her fingers travelled up his nape, to bury themselves in the tangle of his hair. "You know, there's one thing you haven't taken into consideration, Captain Sparrow…" she whispered against his mouth, heard him moan deep in his throat, felt his breath quicken against her own …

"And what's that, my most wise and beautiful King?" He tilted his head, and sought to close the minuscule distance between her lips and his…

Her hand tightened suddenly in his hair, yanking his head back as her right hand pressed sharp, cold steel against his throat. He froze.

"That I can take care of myself!"

She saw his eyes go wide with the dawning knowledge that, whilst he had been quite pleasantly … distracted, she had slipped his own dagger from his belt, and turned it upon him!

He cleared his throat, nervously. "Never doubted it for a moment, darlin'," he said, flashing his teeth in an anxious flicker of a grin.

She smiled, shark-like, at him before releasing him and backing away, removing the knife from his throat, turning it in her hand and then offering it back to him, hilt-first. He eyed her warily as he took it, and slipped it into its customary place in his belt.

"Now that _that _question is settled," she said, letting the hardness drain from her eyes, "It's long past time we had that little discussion." She held her hand out to him, encouraging him to take a seat next to her on the bed.

He gave a salacious grin. "Ah … inviting me into your bed, Lizzie … at last!"

"Oh, would you just shut it, Jack, and listen!" As he settled next to her, she reached out and took his hand. Threading her fingers through his, she started, tentatively, "Jack … Will and I talked, that last day … on the island …"

Jack laid his free hand upon her belly, where the babe inside her was growing, though not yet evident. "Clearly, you did much more than just … _talk_," he said, with a suggestive arch of his eyebrow. "Unless I've been woefully misinformed all these years regarding exactly how these things happen …"

She swatted his hand away impatiently, though she couldn't prevent her lips giving a telltale twitch of suppressed mirth. He laughed, and, disengaging his hand from hers, swung his feet up on the bed, arranging himself comfortably against the headboard, hands behind his head, ankles crossed. It struck her how natural he looked there … as though he belonged there.

And how much she wanted him to _stay _there …

Pushing away such thoughts, at least for the moment, she stood up, turned, and glared at him. "I wouldn't get too comfortable, if I were you."

His familiar grin warmed her, in so many places. "You know me, luv … ever hopeful."

"When you're not being impossibly hopeless!"

His only response was a wave of his hand, which she took as encouragement for her to go on…

"What I've been trying to tell you …" Her expression darkened, and she lowered her eyes, her voice tightening as she fought the sudden urge to weep, "… is that Will said he didn't want me to wait for him. You see, before he joined me on the island, he had had a chance to talk with Bootstrap, and the rest of the crew … found out exactly what was expected of him, in his role as Death's Ferryman. His first order of business, it turned out, was to clean up the mess that Jones left behind … finish ferrying all the souls that Jones had abandoned and neglected for nearly two centuries." She sighed. "I had hoped that there was a way around the terms of Will's indentures to Calypso's service, that would still allow us to be together, on occasion … our thought being that, if he was prevented from meeting me on land, then perhaps I could meet him, occasionally, at sea.

"But apparently that is not possible. Any time he spends with me and not attending to his duties would be considered deserting his post, shirking his responsibility to Calypso and the sea's dead, as Jones had done … with similar results. Each time we were together … every stolen moment Will spent in my arms … would cause him to become … less human, and more like Jones." She paused, and when she spoke again, there was a tremor in her voice. "That's a price neither of us is willing to pay.

"So…" she hesitated, drew a deep breath before continuing, "Jack … he's set me free." She saw a look of shock cross Jack's face, "Oh … he still loves me, and wants me to be there in ten years' time. He won't be denied his one day … nor will I deny him that. The fact is, I still want _him_, and I doubt that will ever change, even if one day every ten years is all I get to have with him, until I'm too old, or … well … _gone_. But …" She drew another deep breath, avoiding his gaze, buying time, gathering courage for the admission she was about to make. "And I know how horrible this sounds, but … Jack … I also want _you_." She spread her hands, indicating that she was finished.

At his prolonged silence, she looked up, to find him staring at her, his dark eyes glittering. _Why doesn't he _say _something? _"In any case … that is the important thing I wanted to tell you, when I first saw you at the Faithful Bride." She held her breath.

"Why didn't you?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Well … you didn't seem happy to see _me _… in fact, you were so bloody _hateful _to me. And, I must confess, I nearly didn't tell you, just now…" She looked away. "I mean, how could I declare my affection for you, when I'm carrying my husband's child? Had I any _right _to make such a declaration?" She looked back at Jack, felt her eyes sting with impending tears. "And how could I hope you'd want _me_, knowing I was pregnant by another man?"

He unfolded himself from the bed, came to stand before her, his eyes already telling the truth. "Lizzie!" he said, his voice softly chiding, and thick with uncustomary emotion.

Her hand found his. Clasped it to her heart. "Jack. You're the only person I have left from … before. The only person I care about, and who still cares about me. The only person I _know _I can trust, which might be madness in its own right. The fact is … I don't want to face this alone, to go through it with strangers. I'm really not sure I can do this, without you."

He snatched his hand away, shook it as though her flesh had burnt him. "Well, you've managed to do … _this _thing … without me." He waved in the general direction of her midsection. "And I don't quite know whether I should feel honoured, or insulted, being your _second _choice," he sulked, with comic exaggeration.

"Jack … I know relations between us have always been … strained … _complicated_." She collected her thoughts, and tried to explain. "When I was a little girl, growing up hearing the stories about you, I was enthralled, captivated. You were my hero. I wanted more than anything to meet you.

"Then I did, and found out you weren't everything the legends said you were. I thought I hated you then, for shattering that child's illusions, taking away her hero … as I once hated my father, briefly, when he told me as a child that there was no Father Christmas."

Jack's eyes widened in mock horror. "You mean, there isn't? Bugger! I'm truly crushed, Lizzie! Warn a man before you spring a revelation like that 'pon him!"

She gave him a quelling look, and he quieted, although with a cheeky smirk.

"Then, when we met again in Tortuga, and sailed to Isla Cruces … something happened. It's as though I fell under some sort of spell, some enchantment that, for a while, made me forget about Port Royal, and Beckett, and even Will. All I could think of was _you_. It was James … God rest his poor misguided soul … who reminded me why I was there in the first place. And then, when that infernal compass showed me what I desired most…" She let her voice trail off. "I tested you, I tempted you, and you resisted temptation, did the right and noble thing… and I _was _proud of you, for confirming my faith in you, but also, in a way, keenly disappointed …"

She didn't even have to look at Jack, to know he must be smirking at her admission.

"Then, when Will appeared on Isla Cruces and told us what you'd done … how you'd sold him to Jones and into servitude on the _Dutchman _in payment of your debt, I started to hate you again. Even more so, when you fled in the longboat, abandoned us, left us alone to defend the _Pearl _against the Kraken. Most of all, I hated the fact that I had been so wrong about you, when I told you, with foolish confidence, all I had earlier.

"When you came back, I was surprised, relieved, ecstatic. For a moment, you _became _that hero from my girlish dreams … brave and strong and unbeatable. But by then, I had also had time to figure out what the Kraken was after, and what it meant for us all. Knew that we were still facing certain death, all because of your presence. Whether we remained on the _Pearl_, or fled in the longboat, it didn't matter — either way, we were doomed. We wouldn't be able to outrun the danger, as long as you were with us. And so I thought to myself: _What would Jack do, if the situation were reversed_?" She looked down, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. "And I acted accordingly…"

Jack's brow knit in horrified bewilderment. "William thinks like me, and it leads to bodies, barrels, and bottles with little love notes to Beckett. You do, and it's shackles, ravenous tentacled beasties, and the Locker." He shook his head. "Just how bloody mad do the two of you think I _am_?"

Her gaze snapped back up to his face as she crooked a sardonic eyebrow. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

He frowned, muttered. "Hmmm. Perhaps not."

"In truth, you're the very soul of contradiction, Jack. Changeable … unpredictable. Brave, and cowardly … selfish, and giving … immoral, and altruistic … devilishly clever, and impossibly scatter-brained. Like opposite sides of a coin, and like a coin, once flipped, one never knows which side will be revealed when it lands. It certainly makes it exceedingly difficult to get to know who you really are, when that definition seems to shift like sand from one moment to next.

"But, nevertheless, I _did _see something in you. Though you hide it very well, it's there—beneath all the swagger, the eccentricity, the unflagging devotion to self-interest and to drowning yourself in profuse quantities of rum—burning in you like a tiny spark, just waiting to flare into bright existence. Will saw it, too, perhaps a bit sooner than I did. It's what made him risk all to save you from the gallows."

She let her fingers trail down the open "v" of his shirt, skimming down the tanned skin, pressing where she could feel his pulse vibrating through her fingertips. "It's what's _here_." She looked up at him, allowing her eyes to reveal her true feelings. "Deny it all you want. But you _do _have a good heart, Jack. You're a _good man_."

"All evidence to—"

She stopped his words as the fingers of her other hand pressed against his lips, then replaced her fingers with her own lips as she kissed the corner of his mouth.

"Jack … I don't know where this is going … where _we _are going. If this is love, or simply lust, attraction or obsession … but whatever it is … whatever this _connection _is between us … I'd like to explore it … see where it goes …" The fingers upon his chest continued their journey downward, pushing the fabric of his shirt aside, trailing tantalisingly over his naked stomach, and toward points below …

Jack's eyes suddenly went wide, his lips twitching as he gasped, swallowed hard, and cleared his throat. "Aye! Explorin's good …I'm all for a little … _explorin'_! But, Lizzie—"

"Hush…" she whispered against his lips. She covered his mouth, feather-softly, with her own, felt his lips continue moving under hers, unintelligible sounds emanating from deep within his throat, muffled against her mouth, as he still tried to talk.

She slapped the side of his face, playfully, with her unoccupied hand. "I said … _hush_!"

Then she set about making sure his mouth was well-occupied with other matters …

After a long, long while, while hands and lips wandered freely, they came up, breathing hard, gasping for air. Enervated, knees suddenly weak with desire, Elizabeth sagged against Jack, laying her head against his heaving chest with a deep and audible sigh, her arms slipping round his waist, the side of her head pressed to the warm, firm flesh, comforted ineffably by the sound of the heightened heartbeat thrumming under her ear.

_Again, she felt as though she was soaring above a maelstrom, clinging to Jack like a lifeline, letting her cares fall away, letting the air and the wind and Jack's strong arms take her, until it seemed there was nothing in the world but her, and him. Nothing else._

_She was with Jack …_

_She was safe…_

She heard him chuckle, felt it rumble in his chest, below her cheek. "Who's the 'wobbly-legged pirate' now, eh?" One hand cupping her jaw, he tilted her face up to his for a brief, tender kiss, then wrapped her more securely in his arms, settling her head upon his shoulder. She heard the smirk in his tone as his voice drifted down to her ear, brimming with male smugness. "Now, admit it, darlin' … you've been waitin' a long time, spent many a sleepless night, dreamin' of my kiss."

She smiled and breathed a little _ha!_ against his skin. "I'm not admitting anything of the sort."

"Stubborn woman!" he said, but his voice was filled with fond affection.

"Infuriating man!"

"Now … about that little alliance you proposed, once we get the _Pearl _back … for you to join me crew, and have me …" one hand strayed down to the swell of her arse, and pulled her more tightly against him, "_teach _you all the things you don't know…"

She turned her face up, gave him a quick kiss, reached down and snagged his wandering hand, taking it into her own as she whispered against his lips, "Why don't we sleep on that, and discuss it in the morning?"

He smiled, and, to her, the glint of his golden teeth and the reflected fire in his eyes were like the sun rising, sparking off the untamed sea, bringing with it light, and life, and _hope _as he let her lead him to the bed. "You took the words right out of me mouth, luv…"

She smirked. "Must have been while I was kissing you…"

As she sat down on the bed, and pulled him down to her, he had time for only one word before their lips met again in harmonious, mutual accord, rendering words impossible, and unnecessary…

_"Pirate!"_

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_**A/N:** If you liked this fic (or, heck, even if you didn't), please do leave a Review! Feedback is what I live for ..._


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